“Hello to Dad, Nana, Uncle Bob, and…”

 

Every morning, after greeting the sun, I give a big hello to my ancestors as I look up at the southeastern sky. Why there? I’m not sure, but that’s where I picture them hanging out. Some days my thoughts go just to my dad; some days to Rebecca, the grandmother I never knew but was named after; and sometimes I think of them all and say hello to each. There are a few I like a lot better now than I did when they were alive. That’s the thing about death. You start to miss everyone after they’re gone.

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On some mornings, I thank my departed family for what they gave me—a memory, a talent, or trait—and that alone recharges my love. When I’m feeling lost, I ask for their help; for courage; faith, or my dad’s sense of humor. I also ask them to guide my children and, just as often, bless friends who are sick. I guess they’re my own band of angels, ones I have real ties to.

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These morning “hellos” are a way to honor my ancestors, to remember them and feel their presence in my life. At the same time, I gain a sense of connection to the vast, unseen realm they’re now in, which somehow lessens my fear of death. And maybe, just maybe, when I die, they’ll be there to greet me in the southeast corner of heaven. What can I say? I like Hollywood endings. What I’m hoping for is that God does too.